Resources

The recognition that students’ identities play a significant factor in learning has begun to impact university and college classrooms over the past few decades. In particular, there is recognition that racial identities of minority students and students of color shape their experience in the educational process. What has become increasingly apparent, and therefore in need of redress, is the lack of racial equity in pedagogical frameworks and practices. Race, Equity, and the Learning Environment: The Global Relevance of Critical and Inclusive Pedagogies in Higher Education brings these matters to the fore and argues that critical and inclusive pedagogies (CIPs) can, when employed effectively, offer a way forward. Such approaches are not new, but offer the promise of creating rich learning environments by “(a) prioritizing the intellectual and social development of students, (b) fostering classroom climates that challenge each student to achieve academically at high levels, (c) recognizing and cultivating the cultural and global differences that learners bring to the educational experience, and (d) engaging the ‘whole’ student (e.g., intellectually, spiritually, and emotionally) in the teaching and learning process” (2).  The volume contains an introduction and conclusion, and in between are eleven essays reflectioning on CIPs at the intersection of race and higher education. The essays are divided into three sections covering theoretical dimensions (three essays), practical implications (four essays), and assessment (four essays). I have chosen to highlight one essay from each section that is particularly valuable for the religious studies classroom. In part one, “Pursuing Equity Through Diversity” (Bolitzer et al.) presents a series of valuable reflections on how student diversity can be used to encourage and achieve classroom equity. Using a multidisciplinary approach, the authors highlight three perspectives on diversity: as the intersection of identities and power, as fostering individual and collective growth, and within subject-matter learning. On this basis, they see diversity as a collective resource in the classroom that advances learning. In part two, Koshino’s article explores the racial climate and experience of a small midwestern college through interviews with students of color. The results enable her to hone in on some glaring deficiencies in the campus culture for minority students and suggest strategies for improvement in these areas. Finally, in part three Ghabra et al. critique the white, heterosexual, male norm of university classrooms through a framework informed by CIPs and intersectional sexuality. They highlight their use of performance writing to evaluate classroom interactions marked by an ethic of responsibility, love, and care. The result reveals how students and professors can work together to create inclusive spaces. Does the volume have value for the religious studies or theology classroom? Given the personal nature of religious exploration and study, the answer is a qualified “Yes!” I suspect teachers of religion will find the essays focused on theoretical issues of more value because of their broad application. However, the essays on practice and assessment also contain material that can be adapted to the religious studies classroom. At any rate, since race and religion intersect so dramatically (especially in the U.S.), CIPs offer a way for students to think critically not only about religion generally, but to do so in a manner that also affirms and values the perspectives of their fellow students. To the degree that these essays prompt deeper reflection on how teachers can engage students in these ways, they will prove a valuable addition to the religious studies toolbox of resources.

Coaching has grown exponentially as a professional practice and as a discipline in recent years. According to the International Coach Federation (ICF), the number of coaches worldwide increased from some 30,000 in 2008 to 47,000 in 2012. Coaches assist individuals with a variety of vocational and personal issues in both public and private sector organizations. As a result, many clients have become better prepared to reach their workplace and life goals. The field of adult coaching as a discipline has matured considerably alongside the practice itself. For example, studies of best coaching practices and analysis of coaching models abound. Professional organizations have formed and have begun to address such critical issues as training, certification, and ethical standards. Transforming Adults Through Coaching, edited by Pappas and Jerman, provides an introduction to the history, current practices, and possible future of coaching. Each chapter in this compact overview includes material that will benefit scholars, practitioners, and their clients. In particular, there is a solid review of adult development and learning theory with illustrative case studies and pertinent bibliographies. Pappas and Jerman acknowledge in their introduction that clarity is needed when considering what coaching is and is not. It is, they say, neither psychotherapy nor advice giving. Coaching is relational. It is ordinarily practiced with individuals and not groups. And, they underscore, the coaching relationship typically proceeds with a combination of questions and attentive listening. The results, they contend, can be transformative for clients. The first three chapters sketch the parameters for the field of adult coaching. The initial essay by Rachel Ciporen is “The Emerging Field of Executive and Organizational Coaching: An Overview.” Ciporen provides the reader with essential definitions and perspectives on coaching as well as a valuable list of resources for further study. She also notes some of the most common critiques of coaching, such as a frequent reliance on an “overly simplistic view of the learning and change process” (12). Carolyn Coughlin explores a major goal of adult coaching in “Development Coaching to Support the Transition to Self-Authorship.” Her essay describes how coaches, using their knowledge of adult development – especially body and mind theory and practice – can facilitate their client’s movement toward self-authorship. Adult learning theory provides a vital foundation for coaching. Elaine Cox’s contribution, “Coaching and Adult Learning: Theory and Practice,” identifies links between andragogy and transformative learning and how each connects with the practice of coaching. In addition, Cox addresses practical applications of these theories. Brief illustrative dialogues are included to show how the theories can impact actual adult coaching. “Coaching as a Strategy for Helping Adults” by Dorothy M. Wax and Judith Westheim focuses on the kind of issues adult learners bring to the learning environment and how coaching strategies can help them deal with professional and personal obstacles to success. Pappas and Jerman’s closing essay, “The Future of Coaching among Adult Populations,” outlines major directions and critical issues that lie ahead for the field. They underscore not only continued growth for coaching, but also the need for further refinements, including more specialization. These are some of the essays that make this brief collection valuable, not only for coaches and their clients, but for a range of helping professionals and researchers.

M. Gail Hickey has gathered together a valuable resource in Reflecting on Service-Learning in Higher Education. The chapters provide a vast collection of best practices and important principles to consider when engaging students in academic service-learning. The book is divided into three sections focusing on different perspectives for reflection: Community Partnerships, Classroom Practice, and Diversity. Although the first section is titled “Reflection on Community Partnerships,” it is really more a reflection on institutional commitment to building community partnerships. The section has two provocative chapters that take the reader through a reflection on just what impact an educational institution should have within its surrounding community and how service-learning can help the institution attend to the voices of the community in which it is placed. Sherrie Steiner’s principles for implementing reciprocity provide a great framework for institutions and faculty to consider while developing service-learning curriculums. Joe D. Nichols asks important questions about the focus on research and specialization at the expense of community and civic engagement and draws from multiple sources to foster reflection around alternatives to faculty recognition of such public work. “Reflecting on Classroom Practice” is the second and largest section of the book. Each chapter offers a perspective on how service-learning has worked in a particular context. This collection of cases from fields as varied as education, sociology, fine arts, and dental hygiene offers a myriad of suggestions for how to structure a curriculum that incorporates service-learning. There are suggested rubrics, logistical considerations, a solid bibliography with each chapter, and suggestions for what worked well and how one might improve the process over time. Readers will find this section full of ideas, suggestions, and methods focused on building a curriculum, partnering with community members, and methods for reflection with students. The final section, “Reflecting on Diversity,” pushes even further into the questions that come up when students engage in service-learning with diverse communities. Here the case studies offer insights into how students perceive and articulate the impact of their service-learning on their growing sense of their own contextual lenses and the lenses of those with whom they work. Faculty and administrators are invited to anticipate the types of responses their own students will have in an effort to foster positive reflection and growth in the students that is fruitful for the partner communities as well. One concern with the book is that community partners are not represented as writers of the chapters. The effort to shed light on the importance of effective community partnerships and the responsibility of higher education institutions to develop service-learning curriculum in partnership with the surrounding community is important. The inclusion of the voices of partner communities as authors could have added to the depth of the book. Reflecting on Service-Learning in Higher Education is a resource that will be appreciated by high school and university faculty and administrators. The questions raised and the suggestions shared will be useful for any institution looking to begin or strengthen their commitment to service-learning in higher education. Institutions, faculty, students, and the communities with which they partner will all benefit from M. Gail Hickey’s invitation to reflect.

Have you noticed?  The lexicon of the American mainstream media has shifted.  Before the campaign season, the news only sparingly discussed notions of race.  Any allusion to race was vague and superficial.  Reporting of race was primarily reserved for assuring the public that criminals are either African American or Latino/a.  Whiteness was rarely mentioned. White supremacy, which saturates US society, was mentioned even less.  Any media analysis about the identity politics of race, class, gender, or religion was typically reserved for the interviewee to initiate or was the purview of “liberal” media.  Occasionally, “the Black view” (as if there is the “normal viewpoint,” and the sole counterpoint is “the Black view”) would be brought into the conversation in the month of February or when discussing issues of “the inner city.”   Overt acts of anti-Semitism or blindingly vivid acts of racial hatred had to be the headline story in order for a reporter to mumble an analysis which suggested hegemonic forces might be operative in US society.  Most mainstream reporting treated each act of violence as if it were an isolated event.  Hardly ever was there analysis and dialogue that suggested oppression is systemic, historic, and ongoing in our beloved democracy. Then it happened... The presidential campaign brought such bold, constant, and unrelenting hate-speech, outrageous acts of demeaning other-ed human beings, and outright, unfettered arrogance that the media was forced to change the run-of-the-mill lexicon by adding words usually heard in my graduate classroom setting.  Reporting accurately so confounded the media that a different vocabulary had to be deployed.  Words used sparingly, or if at all, are now common-speak in the public arenas: xenophobia, patriarchy, misogyny, bias, islamophobia, homophobia, prejudice, racism, sexism, classism and alt-right swirl through the everyday news reporting.   My ear is refreshed to hear my preferred analytical vocabulary finally in the public and being nationally engaged.  My heart is sick knowing that if these words are so commonplace and routine in the democratic dialogue of a pluralistic society, then we are near a brink of unprecedented social upheaval. I am, in an ironic way, appreciative that the national discourse was so overwhelmed with the need to describe the in-your-face hatred that it reached for important words.  Pressing this new lexicon into extended service is paramount to our national dialogue on freedom and government.  Until now, twenty-first century forms of racism, sexism, classism and heterosexism had morphed into expressions that were palatable to those whose highest values are niceness, pleasantry, and conformity.  I am hoping this new lexicon is sparking a needed curiosity and that the new lexicon will assist persons to label their oppressive experiences for which they previously could not name but under which they suffer.  Succinct naming of our fears and anxieties as well as interrogation of the structured hatred that perpetuates the “isms” is a powerful shift – we who teach, minister, and lead must sustain it.  OMG! Then something else happened… Recently, the TV was on while I was busying doing something else other than watching it.  My focus was jolted to the media broadcast when I heard a surrogate of the President Elect say to an interviewer, “The word racist no longer means anything.  It simply means an angry, old [white] man.”  The new lexicon had been noticed.  Those who use post-truth hegemonic strategies are making efforts to redefine, distort, and garble these terms.  This deceptive definition of racist has extracted race, power, domination and victimhood.  The new definition infers white women do not have the power to be racist (Ugh!).  Racism is now, literally, being defined as toothless, impotent, and ignorable.  We are living in tumultuous times when words of hatred, corruption, exploitation and dehumanization can be redefined by those who reap the benefits of white supremacy and patriarchy.   We must recognize the power of words and keep these tools in our own quiver – in public ways. The vocabulary that usually only inhabits my classroom spaces is now in the living rooms of average American citizens.  We must not squander this moment.  Those who are painfully acquainted with this vocabulary must take the time to assist those who are newly acquainted to these ideas and concepts.  I suspect many people are hearing these words for the very first time.  We must pause to discuss, define, and nurture this new public discourse clamoring to make sense and make meaning of all that is happening in the identity politics of our democracy.  Listen for the new words in the media.  Make a list, and then talk with your family, friends, teachers, students, parishioners, employees, etc. about their definitions and their importance as tools of liberation at this moment.  Listen to the use of the words. Are they being sanitized? Are they being coopted to new meanings that give the impression that oppression is not vicious or evil? We who feel the gravity of current national politics cannot squander these teachable moments.  Finally, to those of us who have the privilege and responsibility of regular interaction with students in classroom settings, let us integrate this lexicon into our classroom dialogues.  Please do not hide behind the excuse that your academic discipline or course topic does not lend itself to a conversation which includes identity politics and injustice.  Please do not rely upon the faculty of color to carry the burden of this conversation for the curriculum.  Please do not depend upon the students of color to ask you a question after class.  Being serious about this teachable moment will take your initiative, and perhaps, even a new approach to your own teaching and scholarship. In this moment of the new public lexicon, let our teaching struggle to stay abreast of the shifting political landscape and let us work-at a new sense of relevance and urgency for the formation of our students.  Especially in our classrooms where our judgment is trusted, we must disentangle, expose, and de-fang the burgeoning pseudo-methodology which would intentionally distort and misrepresent the meanings of critical terms lest this dishonesty become preferable to our students. Our freedom deserves these conversations.

Sometimes classrooms feel like our family living room, with our families around, exposing all kinds of political positions and emotional responses, all of us trying to respond to some events that are going on in the world. We look at each other for help, or to hate, we hope for some understanding and make some sense of wild things. Our schools are in some ways, the extension of our common life and there we try to figure out our lives together. Porous as they are, schools and classrooms breathe and vibrate the world outside of them - subjectively and objectively. We get anxious about what is going to happen to our schools and if we are going to be able to cope and survive. Minorities feel the intensity of worldly events in particular ways. Thus, schools and teachers must be aware of social political events going on around us and respond to them in careful ways. When institutions offer a collective response, with open spaces and written documents, it is easier to deal with the expansive classroom responses. Let me provide two examples of what I have experienced in the US: September 11, 2001, and the election of Donald Trump in 2016. The first event was my first day of class at Union Theological Seminary in New York and the second was my first semester as a teacher at Union Theological Seminary. September 11 was a dramatic anxious day in NYC. We were lost without information and feeling so afraid. Classes were canceled and a gathering in chapel at noon was called. As we gathered, our school “pastor” started with words of assurance, sustenance, and support. We had people leading us in prayer, silence, and sharing words of wisdom for such a time as this. At the corner of the chapel, professor in Late Antique and Byzantine Christian History & Professor of Byzantine Christian Studies, and Orthodox Priest John A. McGuckin stood at a corner of chapel holding a long prayer bead and a cross that was swinging back and forth while his body moved back and forth in prayer for the world. I remember holding hands with now Prof. Jackie Hidalgo and finding solace in her company next to me. At some point, an airplane flew over our heads and we didn’t know what to expect. The whole chapel went into a deep silence as we waited for the airplane sound to disappear. We were together for about two hours and we left with more information about what was going on, how to protect ourselves and to learn how to rely on each other as the day went by. In 2016, one day after the election of Donald Trump, the whole school, surely a very liberal school, went into an emotional and political shock. Classes were not canceled but a call to gather in chapel was issued to occur after the chapel service. The worship service for that day had to be reimagined as well with lots of meditation. After worship, we were to talk about the post-effects of the election that we thought would never happen. Dr. Su Pak and I were called to lead that time and we divided the time into two main blocks: mourning and hope.  We started with an introductory word from our president Serene Jones and started singing the South African song: “the journey, the journey, the journey is long… walk with me for the journey is long.” We then proceeded by opening up the floor for anyone who wanted to express their emotions, their feelings about the results of the elections in their own bodies/souls, their communities and the possible consequences of this election. This time we had Muslim and Buddhist professors and students around, as well as other (non) religious affiliations. After a long time sharing an immense variety of emotions in the warmth of a community, we opened up the space for the possibility of hope and sustained commitment to justice and peace. We left singing “the journey, the journey, the journey is long… walk with me for the journey is long.” While fragile in its approach to the immensity of these times, these collective events served as a sense of communal support that was fundamental for gaining a larger perspective, to voice our own feelings, to know we needed to support each other, especially minority communities at higher risk, and to help us keep going. After these collective events, the work that was to continue in our classrooms was somewhat easier. No classes should go without pausing to attend to events such as these and to give voice to those either agree with us or are opposed to us. For someone to voice their support to Trump at Union was not an easy thing and we teachers have to hold them in their right to speak and honor their place in our midst. In times such as these, we are tempted to demonize the ones we are disgusted with by their practices and cultivate hidden feelings that desire their sheer disappearance. It is easy to feel trapped in these opposed dualisms. However, to live with the contradictions of this seems incredibly absurd. Yet, this reality is what drives us to continue to engage each other, keep safety as a priority, and protect the most vulnerable and fight for what we believe. It is a daunting, even haunting task for the teacher in his/her classroom. If educational institutions can provide open spaces to deal with our fears and doubts and find support, we will be better teachers. At the American Academy of Religion last month, there was a space provided by some groups and led by the Liberation Theology Group that did just that: an open space was provided for conversation, to find out what to do, to learn with each other about the best ways to address political issues ourselves, with our peers and when back to our classrooms. This blog is such a public space as well. Throughout these blogs posts, we will gain a better sense of how to access and engage our realities, of how to listen to one another and make classrooms open spaces that will better prepare our students, and ourselves, to deal with our burning world.

Laughter is an important ingredient in my classroom. I bank on my ability to make students laugh with my often-droll sense of humor, but I also frequently rely on professional comedians through the magic of the Internet. The status of Islam and Muslims in political satire, specifically in the genre of comedy news, provides ample fodder for this need, through projects like The Onion, The Daily Show, The Colbert Report, and Full Frontal (and as much as I cherish Last Week Tonight, John Oliver rarely explores the topic of religion). Indeed, humor also has a long tradition in Islamicate history as well—ranging from the likes of Joha/Nasreddin Hodja to Azhar Usman—but in this blog post, I want to focus on the portrayal of Islam and Muslims in Western satire, sometimes called “fake news.” For better or for worse (often for worse), moreover, the appetite for fake news stories (which at times genuinely fool people!) may also be on the rise. Although this trend can have dire consequences, it renders the genre all the more fertile for generating understanding in the classroom. Lots of learning takes place through the slow, careful, and sometimes tedious (even boring) study of details, but cathartic moments can have a uniquely lasting impact on students. I often seize the moment to employ humor in the classroom not only as a way to keep students interested, but also as a means of transformation. Indeed, things are often funny because they are subversive, because they surprise us—kind of like being tickled. It doesn’t work so well to tickle yourself; because you expect it, there’s no surprise. This element of surprise works particularly well, I find, when combined and contrasted with more traditional modes of pedagogy, such as textual analysis, historical inquiry, and site visits. Accordingly, I select short video clips that I use in class bearing in mind what questions they may generate about a given issue. Some of my favorite examples follow: One of the few Last Week Tonight segments that deals with Islam focuses on a Supreme Court case about the permissibility of inmates growing beards in federal prisons. The clip portrays the Supreme Court Justices as talking animals, as a way to self-consciously heighten interest in the Supreme Court—which not only induces at least a few chuckles, but also offers a meaningful opportunity to discuss First Amendment issues in the context of American religion. Why oh why don’t the “moderate” and “peaceful” Muslims speak up? This clip from Full Frontal with Samantha Bee explores this question as well as myths that Muslims don’t cooperate with law enforcement, or that they hate the United States. The Daily Show’s “Senior Muslim Correspondent,” Hasan Minhaj, has a smart bit about Southwest Airlines’ removal of a Muslim passenger for allegedly speaking Arabic. That Minhaj himself is a brown Muslim speaks to the rhetorical role of his character as well, and he offers a semi-comical but mostly sober reaction to Trump’s election victory. This segment raises an important chicken or the egg question about the nature of political satire: do political motivations inform comedy news or is comedy a way to express political messages? Regarding hysteria over Muslims conspiratorially taking over the United States with their “shari‘a law,” this clip from The Daily Show about mosques and this clip from The Colbert Report about “radical Muslim snacks” (i.e., halal food) have proven successful and provocative in the classroom, by effectively positioning the level of public paranoia in relation to what kinds of practices Muslims actually promote. Clips like these allow me to ask a real but also rhetorical question to my students (who are formally studying Islam): would any of you feel pretty comfortable and informed about defining “shari‘a” on a national news program in front of millions of viewers (who haven’t formally studied Islam)? (Routinely, no one volunteers.) Where do you think the “real news” anchors get their information about this stuff? They probably Google it, I suggest, as food for thought. And people always interpret Google results with wisdom and measure, right? Is Obama a Muslim? No, he’s not. And never was. He even jokes about this, for example, during his remarks at the White House Correspondence Dinner. One of my all-star comedy news clips to use in class comes from the archives of The Colbert Report. It focuses on the aftermath of the 2011 massacre committed by Norwegian Anders Breivik, whom many media outlets quickly identified as a Middle Eastern Muslim, despite coherent evidence. To quote Colbert, “Just because the confessed murderer is a blonde, blue-eyed, Norwegian-born, anti-Muslim Crusader…does not mean he’s not a swarthy ululating Middle Eastern madman.” I find this clip particularly effective as a teaching tool because it not only highlights the absurdity of how sensation-driven journalists reacted to the event, with flamboyantly transparent anti-Muslim bias, but it also pushes the envelope past what the viewer might expect, by presenting a sequence of awkwardly cathartic punch lines. On the unmeasured way in which mainstream media covers religion and violence, this segment on “decoy Muslims” from “The Onion News Network” pushes the envelope by suggesting baby Muslims should be murdered for fear of their possible ties to terrorist attacks. In my experience as a teacher, this kind of humor, which rides the line between grotesque offense and revealing reflection of popular perceptions, can open doors for frank dialogue about complex issues that even engaged students may otherwise find unapproachable because of political sensitivity. Finally, as a spoof on TSA terrorism prevention, this Key & Peele skit offers an ridiculous but lucid critique of airport theater in which a bunch of would-be “Muslim terrorists” in a cave plot to deceive security officials but find themselves stymied by restricting themselves to a 3.4-ounce bottle of toothpaste, as opposed to the 3.5-ounce bottle on which they modeled their attack. Importantly, this flagrantly flippant skit doesn’t downplay the important of national security, but rather invites inquiry: How might the nation achieve this security? Where does one draw the line between personal liberty and public safety? What about non-Muslim terrorists? In conclusion, I have always found humor an effective pedagogical tool in the classroom. And as the onslaught of violently misleading media attention to Islam and Muslims, consumed by our neighbors and students alike, appears to be speeding up, I think the right combination of satire, subversion, and laughing out loud can provide a uniquely powerful classroom presence and learning experience. What are your favorite comedy news clips? Please share them in the comments section below.

Countless hate crimes since Election Day already show the widespread effect of the President-Elect’s unpredictable nature and his death-inducing ideologies: racism, islamophobia, heteropatriarchy, xenophobia, anti-Semitism. What do we as higher educators do when our global context is unstable, the future is uncertain, and the local context is even dangerous for our students? The first matter is safety. We need to make sure that our students are safe. If they are not, we need to point them to resources for protection and help. As teachers in a divided nation, we cannot add to the authoritative calls for unity, which serve only to silence the cries of the oppressed further. Advising victims to be in union with their oppressors is dangerous. What we can do is signal to our students—especially those who are immigrants, people of color, LGBT, Muslim, Jewish—that our classroom is a safe zone. Wearing a safety-pin may offer them a palpable sign, but that’s just the tip of the iceberg. A much deeper and more credible sign is committed to work to fixing these systemic injustices, both inside and outside of the classroom. For example, as a white professor, I could claim that I’m not racist, or I could actively engage in anti-racist work. The difference is critical for our students given the current political climate, wherein silence signals complicity. As higher educators, writing and teaching are the areas in which we can give ourselves the most effectively because this is where we are trained and have expertise. Yet perhaps like many of you, I have felt the need lately to re-evaluate everything I’ve ever done. The current context of global oppression demands this. It is urgent that we remove any curriculum and practice that reinforces systems of domination. It is also time, if we have not already done so, to heed bell hooks’ call to “take the risks that engaged pedagogy requires” and make our very “teaching practices a site of resistance.”[1] Practically speaking, in terms of content and curriculum, it should be a given that we include in our reading lists those groups often underrepresented intellectually. What we “progressive” professors are often unaware of, however, is how we use such readings. As Stephen Ray warns, we cannot keep placing the “texts of historically marginalized communities” at the “margins of conversation” (e.g., using Hildegard of Bingen as a “counterfoil” to Anselm's atonement theory or James Cones as a critique of the white American theological tradition). Such usage results in our students experiencing “these thinkers as primarily kibitzers and only vaguely as primary contributors to the tradition.”[2] Given that white nationalists are rising to cabinet level authority in our current political context, it is imperative that we stop centering the work of European male thinkers. This also relates to how we manage the space/time given to marginalized students within our classroom. hooks suggests “an inversion of hierarchal structures,” wherein the professor uses her/his authority to decenter the voices of the privileged.[3] One pedagogical strategy, for instance, would be to begin each class of an entire semester with a reading from the Quran. This not only resists islamophobia but also signifies to the class the privileging of Muslim students’ voices. As hooks reminds us, we professors too often critique domination from an intellectual perspective, emphasizing “an understanding of the politics of difference, of race, class gender, even though classroom dynamics remain conventional, business as usual.”[4] As election exit polls have shown, our white students have a long way to come in understanding intersectionality; maybe this is why. Furthermore, in this post-election aftermath, teachers of religion and theology need to be asking ourselves an obvious and basic question: Do our students have the ability to recognize that their political stances rely on particular theological or philosophical assumptions? In more general terms, no matter which topic we teach, we need to consider the degree to which our pedagogies reinforce the dualistic separation of the public and private spheres and the mind/body split.[5] Do we craft assignments that require students to make connections between their life experiences and course material? As teachers, do we model these connections for our students? I invite discussion in the comment boxes below. What pedagogical strategies of resistance have you used effectively? Please be specific.   [1] bell hooks, Teaching to Transgress: Education as the Practice of Freedom (New York: Routledge, 1994), 21. [2] Stephen Ray, “E-Racing While Black,” in Being Black, Teaching Black: Politics and Pedagogy in Religious Studies, ed. Nancy Lynne Westfield (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2008), 52. [3] hooks, 188. [4] Ibid., 180. [5] Ibid., 16.

Community Colleges have historically faced numerous challenges, many generated by the very nature of their missions. The three parts of this text flesh out the theory, research, and practice most germane to the history, current state, and future of the American community college, as well as the various student populations community colleges now serve. The three sections ask readers to understand (Part I: “Understanding Today’s Community College Campuses”), support (Part II: “Welcome to Campus: Supporting Today’s Community College Learners”), and look closer at populations often underrepresented in higher education literature (Part III: “A Closer Look: Specialized Populations and Communities on Two-Year Campuses”). Understanding today’s community college campuses requires a review of the evolution of community colleges since their inception in 1900. Kelsay and Oudenhoven, in “Junior Grows Up: A Brief History of Community Colleges,” trace the origin of the American community college back to Joliet Junior College which is “now recognized as the oldest community college in the nation” (5). With a decade-by-decade overview of education in the community college setting, these authors document the vicissitudes of the life of the community college. From the GI Bill in 1944, increased enrollments of women and minorities in the 1960s, the return of Vietnam Vets, the career-focused students of the 1980s, to reduced financial support from state governments, Kelsay and Oudenhoven explicate how community colleges have risen up to meet the needs of their communities. However, these same schools face increasing pressures and challenges today and in the future. John L. Jamrogowicz illuminates these challenges in his chapter, “Community College Economic Climate, Policy Landscape, and the American Graduation Initiative.” The AGI (American Graduation Initiative) spearheaded by President Obama “showcased community colleges as potential engines to drive the recovery from the Great Recession and a return of American dominance by increasing the proportion of the population with a college education” (19). Attempting to shoulder such a heavy ideological burden and with only $2 billion of the desired $12 billion for grants allocated, it is not difficult to surmise why community colleges continue to struggle to meet federal expectations. Other chapters in Part I, such as “College Readiness and the Open-Door Mission” suggest readers look to the issues involved in the open-door mission: primarily, the need for remedial education and helping students persist to the completion of their programs. These authors cite the National Center for Education Statistics from 2011 which found that “more than 70 percent of students who first enroll in community colleges possess at least one factor and 50 percent possess two or more factors that are known to place a student at risk of not succeeding in college” (34). Procter and Uranis’s chapter on the role of technology on the community college campus also demonstrates how these institutions face a variety of resource challenges because they serve more students who may “lack a home computer and rely on the college for access to hardware, software, and Internet connectivity” (48). Financial woes, the necessity of remedial education courses, the challenge of student persistence, and students’ heavy dependence on college resources are just some of the realties those working with and inside community colleges must come to understand. The authors contributing to Part II demonstrate how imperative it is that faculty and staff know their students and contribute to and foster collaboration between academics, student affairs, and advising professionals, as well as residence life staff. The chapter “Who are Our Students?” presents a fascinating, albeit brief, overview of the diversity of students attending community colleges. Some striking statistics indicate that the average age of a community college student is 28 and, according to the American Association of Community Colleges in 2013, “59 percent of full-time community college students were employed part-time” and “40 percent of part-time community college students were employed full-time” (57-58). Support is a recurring theme in McFadden and Mazeika’s chapter on the collaboration between academic and student affairs. These authors utilize Student Development Theory (SDT) as a theoretical foundation that assists members of various sectors of the college to collaborate for student success. This chapter addresses how a theoretical foundation, facilitation of student engagement, and a model of shared responsibility among academic and student affairs professionals all contribute to assisting students. Many community colleges are instituting mandatory orientation sessions. Jessica Hale’s chapter links theories of psychosocial development of students and environmental factors known to influence development with various elements of orientation. While Hale describes the large disparity between various community colleges’ orientation programs (number of sessions, mandatory or voluntary, online or face-to-face), the author also affirms that there is evidence to suggest “that participation in orientation increases persistence from term to term” (86). While residence life may be more commonplace on four-year campuses, Barber and Phelan note that, as of 2013, nearly 25 percent of community colleges “offer on-campus housing” (95). This number is astounding considering the diverse student populations community colleges typically serve. These authors emphasize how much informal learning takes place in communal spaces like campus housing, and suggest ways in which formal learning can be integrated into residence halls (such as “inviting faculty and staff to participate in student life activities”) (97). In order to assist community college students, professionals working with them must know who they are, collaborate with other professional groups on campus, and think creatively about how to help students succeed. The final part of this text is “A Closer Look: Specialized Populations and Communities on Two-Year Campuses.” This section of the book exemplifies just how varied and complex the community college population truly is. A growing number of older adults are returning to school, especially to community colleges. Some of these “third age” learners are enticed by free tuition, motivated to stay busy and active, interested in an “encore career,” or desire to stay connected to a larger community (115-117). The chapter by Fagan and Dunklin on military veterans presents some unsettling statistics, especially regarding female veterans. One such statistic is that while “female veterans have to deal with the residuals of war” like their male counterparts, “23 to 30 percent of female veterans reported military sexual trauma while on active duty” (130). Dimpal Jain’s chapter challenges the limited scope of previous research involving Student Involvement Theory by expanding on what “leadership” means among nontraditional students, especially among women-of-color who take on leadership roles in the context of community colleges (145-147). The concluding chapter utilizes Bourdieu’s concepts of cultural and social capital to explore the complex ways in which particular student populations (adult immigrant ESL learners, student athletes, LGBTQ students, and veteran students) may be marginalized within the normative power structure of higher education. This book sheds light on multiple areas in which America’s community colleges are being shaped by the multitude of missions (academic, political, social, economic) continually assigned to them. Administrators, faculty, and professional staff at any institution of higher education as well as city, county, state, and federal officials who are invested in higher education in their locale would do well to read this book to learn how to understand, support, and look closer at students in their community.

Changing demographics in Norway offer new challenges and great opportunities for the field of education. Today Norwegians find themselves living in an interconnected world where the individual that one might consider to be “strange” because of cultural differences is no longer someone that is only viewed from a distance. In many cases, yesterday’s stranger is now one’s next door neighbor or cohort in the classroom (5). How should an instructor approach cultural differences that exist between teacher and student? How does he or she navigate cultural differences between students? These are among the issues that are carefully examined in The Intercultural Dialogue: Preparing Teachers for Diversity. Chapter One introduces readers to the concept of intercultural dialogue (ID). At its core, ID is a constructive and positive interaction between persons or groups which are culturally different from each other (12). One of the central reasons for educators to embrace ID is the need to alter the dominance of monocultural education that exists in many European countries (16). Chapter Two considers ID from a transcultural perspective. A transcultural (as distinguished from a multicultural) perspective is one which seeks to articulate today’s contemporary and altered cultural constitution, thus abandoning conventional views of cultural formations that are no longer viable (13-14). Chapter Three identifies some of the fundamental features of religion including transreligiosity, and discusses the centrality of religion in culture (53). In Chapter Four we find a selection of influential theoretical perspectives on communicative interaction which are offered as frameworks for the understanding of dialogue (69). Next the author examines the Norwegian government’s curriculum framework for teacher education and cites the preconditions for ID in the context of cultural diversity educational policies (109). In Chapter Six, readers discover that ID is most effective because of its unsettled and vulnerable qualities. For an intercultural dialogue to emerge, instability and uncertainty must be part of one’s understanding of ID because “the power of dialogue is located in its weakness”(136). For this reviewer Skrefsrud’s closing references to the dichotomy between power and weakness evoke images of Christian scripture. There is a core Biblical passage wherein the apostle Paul reflects upon a life-changing encounter between himself and Jesus Christ. The text speaks of the redemptive and often paradoxical power of God’s grace. In the midst of Paul’s affliction Christ provides words of comfort: “My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.” Paul is therefore encouraged to embrace his hardship rather than reject it when he states, “For when I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Cor 12:7-10 [NKJV]). I submit that it is Skrefsrud who prophetically wades into the often turbulent waters of cultural diversity and offers his own words of grace for today’s educators. Some readers will be challenged to embrace a new paradigm for educating both present and future teachers. It is no longer adequate for teachers to develop and maintain academic proficiency alone; Educators must also receive training to become interculturally competent (11). Skrefsrud implores educators to reject the adoption of cultural stereotypes and instead model behaviors that convey a sense of authentic respect for those students who are culturally different. A pedagogy that is aware of what it really means to have an affirming view of students’ complex backgrounds is thus a pedagogy that all students will benefit from (5). Despite its European roots, the underlying message of this book will resonate with many American educators because of our respective experiences of difficulties coping with racial and cultural pluralism. It is well documented that the American educational system, like Norway’s, has not always responded to diversity in positive or constructive ways. We are reminded that the forced enslavement of Africans and African-Americans in the U.S. began around 1619 and ended in 1865. But the sting of xenophobia in many American schools did not stop there. For almost ninety years following the abolition of slavery, America continued to embrace state-sanctioned racial segregation and cultural hegemony in public education. In 1896, the U.S. Supreme Court affirmed the notion that “separate but equal” schools were not only legally permissible but socially desirable (see Plessy v. Ferguson [1896] 163 U.S. 537). “Separate but equal” segregated schools remained lawfully in existence until 1954 when the Supreme Court finally proclaimed that every individual, regardless of race, is entitled to equal protection under the law. In short, “separate but equal” is inherently unequal and therefore unconstitutional (see Brown v. Board of Education [1954] 347 U.S. 483). While Skrefsrud makes no direct reference to the issue of race in America, I think it is fair to assume that he was in some measure influenced by this nation’s story. The Intercultural Dialogue also serves to remind us that culture strongly influences the political landscape. America recently elected its 45th President of the United States. The 2016 presidential campaign was punctuated by heated rhetoric concerning U.S. immigration policy. One candidate rose to prominence by advocating “building a wall” to separate the American border with Mexico, and endorsing the imposition of a temporary ban on the immigration of any Muslim into the U.S. These initiatives were proposed under the campaign banner “Make America Great Again.” Some commentators believed that these ideas reflected an intense desire to draw a bright line of demarcation between so-called traditional American cultural values and the cultures and ethnic groups that the candidate found to be alien and therefore socially inferior. In contrast, Skrefsrud advocates in favor of extending respect and preserving the dignity of those immigrants who are culturally different: The hermeneutical challenge is therefore to maintain the fact that an understanding of the stranger and the strange actually is possible, while at the same time recognize and respect the stranger as the other….The challenge is to approach otherness in a way that allows for distance and closeness at the same time. (49) If questioned about America’s immigration debate, Skrefsrud would likely reject the propositions highlighted above as intellectually unsound, unworkable, and antithetical to prevailing Western notions of democracy and social justice. The broad concept of “preparing teachers for diversity,” especially with respect to college professors, has already been met with some resistance. There are American educators who raise legitimate concerns about (a) the extent to which multiculturalism and cultural awareness impact one’s ability to effectively teach adults, and (b) whether college educators will be asked to alter or adjust their thinking and behavior as they interact with students whose cultural identities differ from theirs. Others may question whether ID is perhaps yet another “political correctness” educational policy initiative that may be incompatible with the instructor’s personal views. Skrefsrud anticipates criticism by offering a cogent rationale for his thesis. Norway, like America, is no longer a static cultural melting pot. It is now a crucible, that is, a dynamic situation involving “culturally other” immigrants in which concentrated and sometimes volatile forces interact to cause or influence change. The arcane notion that immigrants to the United States must completely purge themselves of their cultural identities, and by assimilation adopt the majority’s dominant cultural norms, is simply no longer workable (38-39; 138). In the spirit of King, Gandhi, Mandela, and others, Skrefsrud joins the call for people of goodwill to move beyond mere tolerance of those who are culturally different. Toleration, like accommodation, is beneficial but ultimately inadequate. We must elevate our sights to higher ground which seeks mutual respect, authenticity, and understanding. An average book informs but an outstanding book sparks self-reflection and may even compel the reader to act in new and bold ways. The Intercultural Dialogue: Preparing Teachers for Diversity is an outstanding read that I recommend for any educator or educational policy-maker. The analysis offered by Skrefsrud has the potential to move educational discourse a significant step closer towards the day when all humanity realizes a beloved world community.